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One for the Boomers

Mid-week. I head down an aisle in Walmart. There, I see what looks like R2-D2. You remember him from Star Wars, right? He’s the short, squatty one. I stand and stare. What am I seeing? A woman stops her cart next to the robot, which does not move an inch. I ask, “What do you think this is? What’s it doing?” “I don’t know,” she said. “Is it sweeping the floor?” Like other curious people, I eventually move past it toward the end of the aisle. I ignore the turkeys for 78 cents a pound and pull out my phone. I make a U-turn and head back up the same aisle. I begin to snap photos of the robot. I want to show my husband. Hey, I want to show the world! I become stock still. R2-D2 sticks its head up

Not Winter Yet, But…

According to the weatherman, it’s not winter yet. But here I am with a blanket and huddled next to the fire, watching dried cottonwood leaves on trees as they gently fan back and forth. My husband tells me it’s 18 degrees outside. His words make me move closer to the fire and lean into the heating pad. Such comforts! I think of the man at church who said he’d be deer hunting and camping in the forest this week. I offered him our little cabin, but he declined, saying he was ready for the weather. “I have wood, sleeping bag, and water. I’m ready for whatever comes.” Well, it’s here. We’ve had rain, sleet, a dusting of snow, and coldness. I think of the man trying to stay warm out there. Freezi

At the Café

We’d come from the doctor’s office. Guess we were hungry. Or was it the coziness of the café we needed? The body knows about pain. It has known that lesson since we were youngsters when we stubbed toes or had a rock in a shoe. Maybe my first encounter with pain was when I managed to cut my knee on barbed wire. Today, I dream of health and wellness. To the point that I tell the whole truth to the doctor and if necessary, let strange hands and instruments check and pry. The waitress in this café wears enthusiasm. I like her shirt and tell her. She says, “It’s my way of adding to someone’s day.” “Maybe to my day!” I respond. “Thank you.” My husband and I sit in a booth and order coffee and a fu

October

My October was filled with dreams, leaves, critiques, a presentation, visit with a sister, maples, a retreat, and gathering books for a book signing in November at Barnes & Noble. Not at all what I dreamed about 30 years ago. What would friends from that era think of what I’m doing, if they were all living today? Those friends, of course, still live on inside me. One might say, “Pat, all that writing and critiquing would give me a big, fat headache.” Another would probably question, “So why must you share on this level with everyone? I don’t understand.” I really don’t understand, either. I identify with Kurt Vonnegut’s comment: “When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayo

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